Boy ,Girl or none

It's by no means a secret that if I were to have kids my dream would be to have a little girl but, is this sensible?

I love the idea of the mutual understanding we would share being of the same sex which would otherwise be lost on me, with an adolescent boy. I can't begin to comprehend their dilemmas and insecurities (do they have any) like I could a girls. But, when I look at girls today it's clear that they are not experiencing the things I experienced at their age. Everything seems to have gone in super speed for these kids. They are getting periods at 10 having sex at 12! Girls are just so vulnerable and unfortunately that bit more prone to peer pressure. The obsession with looks and fashion, the constant battle with our weight and figures. With girls developing so quickly it only leaves them vulnerable when they are even less equipped to handle attention from the opposite sex. 

Not to mention some peoples perceptions that we, as women, are inferior and don't deserve the same level of respect, be it religious interpretations or any other archaic reasoning. Entering the realm of religion as a woman is even more frightening, I won't get into this as I don't feel capable of being objective on this matter.

So, perhaps having a girl is not the most sensible idea for my future sanity. 

Let's consider how having a boy would fair.... Well as mentioned previously it would all be uncharted territory, I have no clue the things boys go through or how to get them through it. When I look at young boys today there seems to be a lot of knife carrying, drug taking youths. These kids have no respect for each other or anyone's life. They have zero sense of responsibility or work ethic. I don't claim that girls are exempt from this behaviour, in some circumstances they are just as bad. But how would I handle something like this? 

All this problematic behaviour is not down to bad parenting, there are social aspects, wrong friends etc. I can't possibly lock my offspring in a home with no access from outside but boy does that sound appealing when I read the news.  I fear the way things are going for kids, how will it be when my kids are teenagers? That's if I dare to take such a leap.

Sniff, sniff, sniff

I feel miserable today.

That's all can manage. Sorry

P.S. If you work up the energy to think I will write something more interesting than this, I swear.

Is it only short little me or do some people just take the biscuit?

I know the idea of things going smoothly everyday when you're trapped in sardine proximity to a load of strangers, smelling of an overwhelming variety of body odours in the summer and coughing, picking theirs noses and sneezing in the winter, are slim but come on!

I can't recall just how many times on the way to and from work, on the underground, I have found my head used as a newspaper rest. Honestly, what is going through tallies (tall people) heads when they decide this is acceptable behavior?

Surely, if they can do this I should be able to use their belts, lets say, as a method of holding on when the train grounds to a halt and I am trapped in that bit by the door with only the high pole (the tallies domain) across the top. You know the one... the one I CAN'T REACH! At least I would have my safety as an excuse what's theirs? Is their culture awareness so dependant on the couple of minutes using me as their apparatus?

Or perhaps using the tail of their coats to clean my glasses would be acceptable. No? Would this be rude! Would that be a step too far?

It infuriates me, there are not many times when my height, or lack of, bothers me but when people act like they can't see me it really makes me want to kick them with my little hobbit legs!

Is their any dismissive commuter behavior you hate? Other than the pushing, inconsiderate everyday stuff?

P.S. I don't think this will be the only commuter rant you will be privy to. Be warned!

My love of those local shops.

I don't want to generalise but these shops that I am proclaiming my love for, generally speaking, are run by Muslim men, Indians, Pakistanis or Africans. Perhaps it varies by area but those are the ones I know.

These shops stock a range of supplies that could save you in a cooking related emergency. Maybe you need a spice or condiment they will have it. Or lets say halfway through baking a cake you realise you are missing a vital ingredient...there they are with flour, eggs and sugar at hand. There may not be a variety of products but in a cake emergency anything will do. Right? Or perhaps friends are popping in and you notice the fridge is low on beverages. Well worry no more the corner shop will save you from that embarrassment.

But, by far the time when corner shops show their worth is during the Christmas/new year break. When you run out of milk and no other shop is open, these tiny places come to the rescue. My mums local shop even boasts of fresh baguette. Fresh baguette! Baguette!!!!

So, what led me to this confession of love? Well, yesterday I found myself on the hunt for a chunk of pumpkin. No, not because of some bizarre craving but for my Bella's (my cat for those who haven't had the pleasure of being introduced) dietary needs (let's not get into the what's and whys). I went to the large Sainsburys close to work, then Mark's & Spencer's and Tesco's. I had just about given up when I recalled a tiny place I frequent when low on plantain ( another reason to love them) and there it was among hills of casava, potatos and onions the much needed pumpkin. Thank you once again, like knights in shining armour you provided what no other could.
Perhaps the admiration for these places is mine alone or perhaps I require ingredients and supplies that only a very small minority search for. You tell me. Have you found yourself in my shoes? Metaphorically speaking otherwise do give them back. :)

Do you ever get that feeling?

Do you ever wake up with that feeling that that day something awful will happen?

You spend the day waiting for the 'nightmare phone call', you look at your boss and wonder if he has had a look at you internet history and the hours amount to most of your work day.  You check your diary to make sure an important date hasn't been missed, a credit card payment forgotten. You call a few people just to make sure all is well.  The day goes by with that horrible heart popping from your chest feeling and you go to bed in turmoil that perhaps that's it, you won't wake up. You look once more around you and hope for the best.

And then the next day you wake up and you are fine. What the hell is that? What is our body playing at? Why ruin a perfectly good day like that?

Is this an erroneous premonition type thing? If so I won't even trust a real one because there have been countless fake ones to no really ones. Perhaps it's only my premonition warning thingy that's broken. You tell me.

My kindle ran out of battery and I left my earphones at work. What now?

I never really considered myself particularly technology dependant, don't get me wrong I like new gadgets but I don't feel I have to have them all. Now that I have made myself clear on this lets continue....

You know when you're on the train and you take a quick glance at all your fellow passengers, and apart from the few dosing with their heads dangerously hanging over their neighbours shoulder or plastered across the glass panel, doesn't it strike you as scarily robotic the way they are all either connected to their iPhone, glued to their kindles or failing that reading the newspaper. Anything to avoid just sitting there waiting for their stop to come up. Am I so twitchy? I mean what's a 30 minute train ride with no entertainment?

Well, I can't answer that in all honesty. It took me from Vauxhall to Pimlico ( that's one stop for any chauffeur driven readers) to realise that 2 minutes of staring into space is enough to make me grab my own white little preciousss and write this. 

Gosh the boredom of not having anything to look at apart from the other minions on board, who may I add, are not that pleasing to the eye. Or worse the risk of having to actually think! Of letting my mind wonder into the world of worries, concerns and finances.....oh this is too much for the morning commute. This must be what they've discovered our technology be it books, music, movies, games all allow us to switch off our minds and in the morning prolonging this is ideal. Oops, I better get off the train.... chao. x

Has it?

Be careful what you wish for....

I recently heard that on average 1 in 5 of us actually have the job we dreamt of.

As anyone who knows me would tell you I am perhaps the most indecisive person you could meet, add to this my inability to trust my own thoughts and intelligence and the result is....well me of course.Let's go through what I wanted to be....

I wanted to be a vet, but hated the idea of seeing animals in pain. I only wanted to get paid to play and cuddle them (if there is a job like this, where do I sign? ).

I wanted to be a dancer, don't judge me, but come on!... Getting paid to dance,  how fun would that be?

I wanted to be a singer, that was a bubble that burst as quickly as it formed. Happy feet has a fabulous voice in comparison my only skill would be the ability to memorize song lyrics.

I wanted to go into animation, but without the hours spent learning programs and scripts. I just wanted to wake up knowing how to create wonderful characters. Forget the endless hours of planning and preparing this didn't enthuse me. Patience when creating things is not a virtue I posses.

I wanted to be a photographer, again because taking snaps here and there and having an excuse to travel seemed ideal. By no means did I take into account the hours spent trying to get 'the shot' or even the sort of pictures I would take.

Surely the pattern is becoming visible... I didn't really look into anything in depth these were all wishes on a whim. But I was a kid and everything seemed possible and it seemed like you would simply select and the skills would immediately become embedded in your brain.

My parents who came to London from Colombia to improve their financial future spent most of my childhood cleaning and they recall how once I had the cheek to say the following....
'When I grow up I will have my own cleaning company so that you both will always have a job.' 

And what do I do now you wonder?

Well, I work for a cleaning company!!! I don't own it and I don't clean but there is no denying that I should have been more careful with what I wished for.

What did you dream of becoming? And did you make it?

P.S. Quick note about this 1 in 5. I know more than 5 people and not one of them is doing what they wished for. Is the statistic not so reliable or do non achievers attract each other? :)

Travel Alert

Pandemonium on the journey home

Honestly, yesterday evenings journey was testing my rather exhausted patience. There I was happily making my way home with a bag of delicious bunuelos when the 137 in front of my bus broke down. It BROKE DOWN right there at the bus stop, full of people all packed in like sardines. Me being one of the many little fish risking frostbite. But hey...that alone wouldn't phase me. I mean it's not my bus, and why make their problem mine?

But, wait for it... The bloody bugger blocked the road in such a way that no other bus could pass. So evidently their problem promptly became mine! Well, 15 minutes later with all the passengers spread out like some sort of ground control team we were finally able to board our buses and make our way. So, after a considerable amount of huffing and puffing, I breathed a sigh of relief and made myself comfy.  Little did I know that more was to come.

As we progressed through Clapham I found myself off the bus once more and still nowhere near home. Door failure was the diagnoses and Jo was let down by the transport service for a second time somewhere between Clapham Common and Christchurch road. Well,  if that didn't take the biscuit, we were then rushed onto the bus like cattle with not even an apology for all the toing and throwing. I mean how hard would it be to say 'sorry for any inconvenience caused to your journey this evening ladies and gents'. But nope, not a word, we all sort of guessed by the drivers body language that we could get back on, that's bus drivers for you. I could write a whole other post on bus drivers and their mode of conduct. I won't though as it would only bring the pent up anger to the surface. So on that note how was your journey home?


Oh before I go... here are the bunuelos and cheesy bread in all their glory....

The magic of coincidences,,,,

Would I be tempted like Shrek to give up one day of my life to Rumpelstiltskin? I would categorically say no! When you take into account how each day in fact leads us to where we are now it seems a crazy gamble with very tiny odds.
Have you ever wondered what loosing a day would do?

I have.

Let's take my relationship with Halil probably the epitome of coincidences in my life. Here are the many actions, some even years before meeting, that lead to us being together.

So, lets begin with young college Jo, she was going round her business lost in a world of indecision (not much change there) not knowing what to do with herself. To make matters worse decisions had to be made that would alter her whole educational future not to mention her personal one. She had to decide what, if anything, she was going to study at University. I still recall the panic and confusion, the 'I am not good at anything-ness (which is lives in me like a parasite). But no choice simply wasn't an option. At the time I had come across the most beautiful University and thought this place would be wonderful (simply on appearances). So, I applied to study Psychology there and in a few less attract Universities just in case.

After the torture of exams and waiting for results things didn't go as well as anticipated and it seemed that re-sitting the exams was the only option. After a quick call begging to be allowed into the college and promising 26 hrs a day studying, I was told Psychology was simply out of the question but due to my language 'skills' (not really a skill when you learn one from birth and the other at 5yrs of age, but I was in no position to argue) I was offered a linguistics degree. So, would it be Spanish and English, Spanish and Politics and many other combinations of things that simply sounded miserable or Italian and Spanish. A whole new string to my language bow. Italian always seemed romantic and sexy and well who wouldn't like to sound like them? Language of Amore, si per favore. :) Just like that my 4 year journey was set in motion. I quickly realised the language of Amore had a disliking for me,  my mix-ups with Spanish infuriated my teacher more than my classmates butchering the beauty of the language with their English accents. But none the less I soldiered on through 2 years and then the delight of 1 year abroad was on the horizon. . I decided that because my Italian was in desperate need of help I would spend the whole year in Italy rather than going to Spain too. My Uni had links with at least 8 cities in Italy but Florence lured me like no other city could. Finally what every language student looks forward to other than graduating, one year in a new country with friends and all the wonders of being alone, your own boss in the big expanse of the unknown. One explorer out to see the world with just a few belongings and a hefty student loan

Ok, perhaps I have gone to far, in reality for me at least, it was 3 days of depression not knowing how to get by, not knowing a soul and missing my mama. Il Doumo shared many tears with me, whilst the River Arno swept them away all under the watchful eye of Piaza Michelangelo I made it through the sadness and got back on my feet. I made friends and found a place to live and with this life became a roller coaster of fun. I would go to classes and have lunch at the canteen with my house mate and wonder the cobbled roads enjoying every coffee shop Florence had to offer and in the evening we would frequent tiny live music bars with student discounts offering the strongest cocktails they could get away with. In a blink of an eye the first half came to an end.

On one of mums trips to visit me (and regain control of her wayward daughter) we came across a girl who was ecstatic to hear our Colombian accent and gave me her contact details if ever I should want to meet up. This was put away without a second thought and the fun continued with mama and our shopping. Anyone who has the pleasure of knowing my mum would know when the mood is just right she is incredibly fun.

On the second half of my stay in Florence I was back to square one and needing a place to live, then my encounter with the rather sweet Colombian girl came to mind. We had a chat, met up and though she didn't have space for me in her place she took me to her school and introduced my to some Indian boys that were in need of a housemate. Little did she know that in actual fact they needed a boy to share a room with another boy. I offered them to pay more and have the whole room to myself and after some deliberation my offer was too good to ignore and off I went to see my room. I had two Indian house mates, one Hungarian and one other girl who's origins I forget. They were all fun in small doses and lucky we all had our own lives to lead.

One day I was told that they had a party to go to and one of the Indian boys who had taken a liking to me (completely unbeknown to me) told me to come along, my Colombian friend would be there too plus many others I now knew. So I decided to get myself ready and leave my hair to it's natural curly craziness for the first time. I remember like it was yesterday running from my room to the kitchen to show my hair in all it's glory when there sat on our table was a boy I had never seen before. He had a union jack waist coat on and ridiculous hair but to me he was instantly mesmerizing. He had a lovely smile and gorgeous dark features, I could not for the life of me take my eyes off him. I could never say it was love at first site but it was something like falling of a cliff there was no where else to go. Like they say in the movies 'he had me at hello'.

Already at this point it is clear that had I not decided to go to that University, begged for chance to study something there, decided to do Italian, decided to go to Florence all year instead of half  in Spain (or any other Italian city), wondered the streets with mama, kept the girls number, got that room and socialised with that group, decided to go to that house party. I would never have been in that kitchen at the exact time that my husband had innocently visited his old room mates. Who could have imagined that because he moved out I got a room and that I had slept in his bed way before knowing him. Oh the wonders of coincidences,what an intricate web they weave. So believe me Rumpelstiltskin wouldn't wouldn't even get a millisecond from me.
Ever wondered how coincidences altered your life?